Fighting For Her
by gigi2690
Summary: Post-Finale. Valhalla is a dangerous place even when Tamsin was a welcomed Valkerie. Now she's kneeling at Odin's feet, Bo's bright blue gaze staring right through her.
1. Arriving in Valhalla

_May be just a One-Shot...might be convinced to continue ;)_

_~.~_

As sudden as you were drowning, the smoke clears from your lungs. You take in as deep a breath as you can but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. The air is thin, and so very cold. Ice crystallizes the sweat on your skin within seconds, an icy embrace you remember from your dreams. You're home. Your eyes remain squeezed shut as the conflicting emotions ravage you, the rapture of familiarity after all these years...and the horror. Of being taken to your final death, a warning and an example for your sisters.

The one thing you don't feel is regret. A low groan to your left finally prompts you to open your eyes. Dyson is on his knees beside you; you don't remember kneeling but you aren't surprised. This is how you always return to him. The wolf is shivering, the cold is far more than temperature here and you wonder how long he'll last. You were born to this cold, to this ice, to its magic. But him, it won't be long before Valhalla's frozen grip yanks his spirit from his body. You're not sure if he has a true warrior spirit, but he's a good fighter and this place will take him all the same.

You reach out and place a hand on his arm. You don't care for physical touches, but this is your mess and you've kind of grown a soft spot for the wolf. _Great, more weaknesses_. You watch as the icy pallor recedes from his cheeks. You briefly attempt to rise to your feet, unsurprised when you can't manage more than some feeble squirming. He obviously wants you alive, for now, as he could have let you and Dyson get crushed in the crash. Perhaps he intends to interrogate you about the succubus. Bo. You send a prayer in the old tongue that she has managed to escape his clutches so far.

You have to squint as you look around. The halls of Valhalla are always so glaringly white. Proud, striking...all the better to see the blood. Your heart skips a beat when you realize where you are, and then it skips several more as you realize that you are utterly alone. The throne room is never empty: valkyries returning from battle with their prize, jesters and entertainers, servants with trays full of drink and food. The silence is deafening.

Your mind circles back to what Bo's mother said in that human hellhole. You have never been more certain. Bo is his kid. _Fuck. Of all the beings on this earth to get attached to, I get attached to Odin's spawn. _This means something, something you're pretty sure you need to figure out if you want to keep you and wolf boy breathing, but your head is still pounding from being dragged back to Valhalla.

The throne sits some twenty feet in front of you. Gold bleeds into platinum on a chair that looks more like it was grown than built. There is no fabric or cushions, comfort is of little consequence to a warrior...and Odin is the fiercest. You hear the footsteps, two pairs, but only he enters the room. Master of death, Lord of fallen Warriors, Father of all Valkyries. Part of you aches for forgiveness; it seems like forever you have been his servant, walking the earth to do his bidding. Part of you wants to plead for another chance, to return to your sisters' side. But bitch be stubborn and you've always hated apologies, never had the stomach for them. You're fairly certain he'd laugh at your vulnerability so it's a moot point anyway.

He looks different from when you drove a truck through him. Gone are the suit and cane, replaced by dark blue and black robes, both ceremonial and deceptively fitted for violence. There's a great staff in his right hand, and you have to fight the urge to shudder at the sight of it. When you were young, just returning with your first soul, you witnessed a Valkyrie's death by that staff. People had gathered to watch, betrayal is almost unheard of among your kin. You push down your revulsion, your fear, and watch the approval sparkle in his dark gaze. Good. That might just keep you alive for now. He smirks as his eyes fall to your hand still on Dyson's arm. You have laid claim, keeping the magic of this place from taking his soul. You fear for a moment that he will make you let go, but he does not.

Instead he pushes the staff beneath Dyson's chin and raises his eyes to his. You're surprised Dyson hasn't spoken up yet, made pointless demands for explanation or speeches on infringement on the light. Perhaps he understands more than you have given him credit for. You use the time Odin studies Dyson to study him. You've never seen him this close. But my god if you had, you can see it...in his jaw and in the cut of his cheekbones. He is Bo's father.

At first you think it must be shock that this keeps striking you every few seconds, but as you continue to take in his dark features it finally sinks in. He sent you to get her. He sent a Valkyrie to get his daughter. His daughter. You never stood a chance retrieving her after her dawning even if the druid's potion had worked. You weren't lying all those weeks ago when you told Bo you'd pissed the wrong people off to get this gig, but you hadn't pissed them off enough to call for a suicide mission. Which means the objective had been something else entirely. You feel used, you're always being used but somehow this feels different, hurts deeper. It strikes you that it's because this means you may have failed Bo. That you did his bidding despite your best efforts. You're going to be sick.

He's grinning at you, as if he can read your thoughts, but it's more likely that the horror is showing on your face. You sense her moments before she enters. By god she's beautiful. You've always known this of course, she's a succubus for god's sakes, but now

- draped in dark purple and black, silk billowing with every confident step, hair tussled and curled, bouncing off her cheeks and dipping into the valley of her breasts-

she fits in perfectly with the majesty of Valhalla. And her eyes, there is no brown left, just an icy blue blaze. Your heart carves broken pleas into your ribs; your throat is tight and unyielding. You aren't sure if it is your own body or Odin's will that keeps you silent.

She looks through you, she doesn't even turn to look at Dyson. Odin gets her attention, calling her softly to his side. There's a warmth in his voice that curls around you, it's as honeyed as it is false. You hope Bo can see through the lies, but you're not even sure if she's Bo at the moment. She's overdosing. The magic here is full of chi, the life forces of so many fallen soldiers swirling in the air between them. She's feeding with every breath; even the noble hearted enigma that is Bo will be unable to resist that power. Especially with a father proudly coaxing her farther into the darkness. Into death.

You fight the invisible bonds that hold you down. This isn't right. Bo is a creature of life, of vitality; she managed to make your old bones feel again. She deserves so much more than this. They are paying you no heed. Odin's arms are on Bo's shoulders, she's hanging off his every word. You feel the grip holding you to the marble floor weaken slightly. You hold back your smirk and tighten your grip on Dyson's arm.

"Be ready." He's not sure what for, but he nods his head all the same. She told you to fight. And you will. But it seems that instead of fighting with Bo at your side, you'll be fighting for her.


	2. At Bo's Mercy

**Alright. Multi-chapter fic it is. The rating has been changed because there's no way I'm resisting writing some Valkubus smut. Reviews are most appreciated :)**

~.~.~

You are poised and ready, muscles tensed in wait. If you can manage to grab Odin's staff when he circles back to you, you might actually stand a chance. Unfortunately, it is Bo that approaches instead.

"Why did you bring them?"

Her voice echoes, each word drenched in coiling darkness, your ears strain to hear _her_ in it at all. It's there, faint and hidden, as you hope the rest of her is. A sickening churning grinds your stomach into your other internal organs, the idea of losing Bo to this place, to death, to Him...not after Acacia, not after forsaking your kin and your calling, not after everything.

Odin is watching his daughter carefully, you hope this means his hold on her is still precarious, "You will see Isabo. I have plans for my fallen valkyrie and the wolf."

She's right in front of you now, bending to take your cheek in her palm. Gentle fingers run through your hair...just as you begin to lose yourself in the touch (in spite of yourself) the hand fists and pulls roughly. You bite back your gasp, willing your face to stone as you watch her leer down at you,

"I would like a snack..." she pulls you close by the fist in your hair and takes a taste, it's as pleasurable and painful as you remember, "I'd keep her alive." She's turning to grin at Odin, and she actually has the gall to bat her lashes...the succubus bats her lashes at the master of death.

"Is the chi flowing through Valhalla not enough?" He's suspicious, and you're unsure if you want there to be anything to be suspicious of. You want your Bo back (and just when did she become your Bo!?), but the last thing you want is the succubus to trigger Odin's wrath through deception. The man is skilled at seeing through subterfuge, what with a son like Loki.

Bo lets go of your hair, running a finger down the line of your jaw. Her eyes seem to warm for a moment, from iced tundra to a cloudless sunny day and then back again. You aren't sure what to do with the hope itching at your insides. You try and squash it as her expression hardens and she once again regards you like wolf boy would a t-bone steak.

"Enough, yes. But it's not my preferred way to feed, and the taste of a Valkyrie." Her eyes blaze; she traces your lip with her nail as she runs her tongue along her own plump bottom one, "Well, you denied me a taste of the others. Why not her?"

He watches her for a long moment, you're sure he'll deny her request before he at last waves his hand. She's pulling you to your feet, no longer held to the ground you stumble into her grasp as you struggle to remain connected to Dyson,

"The wolf stays with me." You mean to sound final, but it rings hollow and weak in imposing throne room.

"Worried he'll die without your protection?" She looks amused at the thought, "I can see it, your wavering hold on his spirit. This place is just itching to get its claws into him," her eyes flare even brighter, as if a light is shining from within, "I can feel its desire." She sways on the spot momentarily, closing her eyes and breathing in deep through the nose, absorbing even more chi.

Odin smiles at her, approval shining in his gaze. There was a time you craved that look, now the sight makes you want to vomit all over this damn pristine marble floor.

"You are of my blood child. You are connected to Valhalla. Let it nourish you; make you strong."

Bo grins and nods before releasing her grip on your arm and strutting up to Dyson. You stand unsure as you watch her put a hand under his chin to bring his face up much like her father had done some minutes ago. You think for a moment she's going to take whatever energy he has left- you bend slightly ready to pounce- but she's giving it instead. Only rather than the typical gentle pink it's a deep midnight blue.

He coughs and begins to shake, his body fighting the strange energy. You watch his body struggle with what you hope looks like detached interest; inside you're screaming at the stubborn detective. _Don't You Die on me Wolf Boy! _The next 60 seconds are some of the longest of your life. When you manage to tear your eyes away from Dyson's prone form, Bo's face immediately becomes your focus.

You don't like how her mildly amused and predatory face both frightens and arouses you. She's all succubus at the moment and it's a sight to behold. You look for the compassion, the concern; expressions so common on Bo's face you'd begun to think they were permanently etched in. There is none.

Finally his body stills and he lets out a quiet, keening sigh. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding as Bo turns and returns to your side, her fingers wrapping tightly around your bicep. She pulls you from the room and promptly tosses you at the Valkyrie waiting in the hallway. You allow yourself to be dragged.

The valkyrie holding you is familiar. You watch her out of the corner of your eye as you make your way through the great halls of your birthplace. Your eternal birthplace. You pass a large redwood door, able to discern cheering and laughter through the thick wood. The Valkyries' quarters. Where you'd return with your warrior's soul to rejuvenate, fill your stomach with the best food and drink, gamble away the treasures you'd assembled during your latest lifetime while sharing battle stories, tales of glory.

The shine has faded...you're not sure when freedom became more important than glory. Who are you kidding, of course you do...since Bo. You finally manage to catch eye of the valkyrie at your side and you are at last able to place her. Kára. You went through training together. You hadn't been friends but you'd broken fast together; you'd fought side by side both in World War II and the First Chechen War. And now she will barely even look at you. You wonder if this is by Odin's command or if you are truly dead to your sisters. The thought hurts more than you would like. Somehow you thought the resolve behind your actions would soften the blow, that you could shield yourself from their scorn with your righteousness.

You were a fool. Thankfully you don't come across any more of your sisters on your way to Bo's chamber. It's in a wing you've never been allowed to enter. It doesn't look much different, a bit more shine to the gold plated archways...mostly it feels different. Heavy. Kára adjusts at your left. Her hold on you wavering for a moment. She can feel it too. Bo's still walking in front of you.

To avoid watching her delicious rear you've mostly been avoiding her altogether- arousal is a dangerous thing to be feeling around a succubus ready for a feed- so it takes you a while to notice the difference. At first you think she's actually grown taller, but you soon realize it's not an external change. The goosebumps raking your arms whisper of great power, she's growing stronger with every step. And you grow weaker. The bright side is that your sister has no desire to linger, Kára tosses you to Bo, who catches you and twirls you around like a doll, and bolts. You catch her eyes over Bo's shoulder just before she rounds the corner. It's brief but it's there...pity. You swallow thickly as you're led into the room; you think you preferred indifference.

Bo wastes no time, closing the door and promptly shoving you up against it. Your back protests against the abuse, but then the succubus is pressed tight to your front and all complaints vanish. You shudder at the feel of her. You wish this was your Bo, but you cannot deny you have wanted this, that you have dreamed of this. Nimble fingers slip your jacket off your shoulders and dispose of your shirt seconds later. In a flash both of your wrists are held in one of hers. Admittedly you don't struggle too adamantly as her lips seek out the column of your throat, pulling your head to the side with her other hand to suck hard at the spasming tendon. You moan and you feel her smirk against your skin.

You remember how she was that day in the woods, you're not sure if she'll be able to stop herself from sucking you dry. Part of you wants her to, to take all that you are, all that you have left...it sometimes feels like she has already. It wouldn't matter anyway; Odin would resurrect you-Bo bites down just above your collarbone and you squirm under her mouth-but god what a way to die, given by the heat churning at her every touch you would probably revere it as one of your more magnificent deaths.

Her lips seek out yours at last, and you feel that aching pull from your core, the rush of pleasure and that coiling heat that threatens to set you aflame. You watch your chi leave you and enter her. Her hand pulls open the fly of your pants, your chest is heaving against her own. It strikes you that she looks quite affected by recent events. Her breasts are heaving against you just as quickly, you chance a look at her face and are struck dumb by her eyes. You would have sworn her eyes could not get any brighter, but you were mistaken. Only now gold is swirling amid brilliant blue. It's breathtaking, but not as much as the look she's giving you. You know that look.

"Bo?" Your voice is stronger than you feel. You're still pinned, hands over your head to a door in a hall that makes you feel like a giant is pushing down on your head. She's blinking rapidly. And then tears begin to pool. _Oh god. Anything but that._

"Tell me again." You pause, face half scrunched in preparation for a tidal wave of tears and awkwardness, but she seems to have gotten a hold on the waterworks, she's staring into your eyes with something hinting at desperation. Your mind takes longer than you'd like to find your answer,

"You're smart, you're fast, and you're a hell of a lot cuter than him." You grin, your old words still relevant, and Bo's smile is smaller but genuine. "You are stronger than this Bo."

She lets go of your wrists abruptly but she does not back away, choosing instead to rest her hands on either side of your head. She closes her eyes and takes in a few deep breaths, her chest brushing yours with every inhale. When she opens her eyes again the gold has receded. Anxiety licks at your nerves. Not good. You can't lose her again, you just got her back.

"It's so very strong. Every breath gives me more power, and there's this hunger that isn't even mine, it's this place, it's like the halls themselves crave each new soul. And I feel all of it Tamsin. All of it. But the energy is wrong," her eyes go distant, "it's dead. It's so very cold."

She stills against you, her face hardening. You groan in frustration and pull her in for another kiss. You keep one hand on each cheek and hold her there, not that there is much struggle, your Bo or Alpha Dark Bo...you still taste delicious. When you feel the pain pulling at you and the inciting pleasure you welcome it readily, deepening the kiss, pulling her tongue into your mouth and sucking hard. You're getting lightheaded before she pulls away with a gasp.

"How do you do that!? How is your chi bringing me back?" She's panting heavily against your neck and you bite down on your lip, shaking your head. You have a few ideas, but you are so not ready to even think about those let alone discuss them with the succubus. You grab her shoulders and shake her slightly, until her gaze focuses on you, now more gold than blue.

"That's good Bo. It's good that it's cold. That means you haven't fully acclimated to this place, death should be cold, until-"

"I'm dead myself?" She pulls herself from your grip and backs away. You move away from the door to trail after her, unable to resist her gravity. She's upset, understandably so, but you aren't skilled in comfort, all you can offer her is the truth.

No," you swallow, wishing her fate would be that kind, "worse, you are death's daughter, I fear he would have you walk by his side, neither living or dead for all of eternity."

The door you were both just pressed against swings open and a servant dressed in gold and burgundy fabrics. He's a looming figure, yet bowed. He is one of the indebted. A warrior chosen by Odin that had disappointed him in battle, forced to serve those more deserving of Valhalla. It only took him moments to notice the change in Bo, his eyes widening at our familiarity, at my arm on hers, of the tears still brimming in her gaze...and of course the gold swirling amidst blue. _Shit._

No sooner than the thought passed through your head and he's off his feet, held aloft in one of Bo's hands as she drains him dry in one long pull. You watch him crumble at your feet, unsure what it is that you are feeling.

Whatever it is Bo doesn't seem to like your expression and she shrugs defensively, "I will do what I have to in order to keep you and Dyson alive," her eyes widen dramatically, "Oh GOD DYSON!"

You raise your hands placatingly, "Safe! For now, thanks to your alter ego." You point a finger down at the servant, "He could ressurect him." You don't think Bo realizes yet just with whom she's dealing.

Bo merely cocks an eyebrow, "Somehow Daddy dearest doesn't seem like the type to bother with the help, unless I give him cause. I'll blame it on the hunger, he'll be proud, he may even give me a cookie." She's smirking at you, the mirth in her gaze literally sparkling. You try and resist a smile but your lip quirks and Bo's smile only widens as she sees it.

You're both grinning at each other for a few moments before Bo's falters, and she begins to pivot from the balls of each foot to her toes and back. You cross your arms over your chest. Absently happy you wore one of your nice black lace bras today. Bo looks nervous.

"What is it Bo?"

She's fidgeting under your gaze and while part of you gets a kick out of making the succubus squirm you're starting to get concerned about what could be bothering Bo...besides the obvious Possibly-Going-Evil-Kidnapped-By-Father-In-Vahlall a thing...

"It's just... I'm cold. No amount of covering seems to help warm the ice in my veins, except-" she trails off and you find yourself finishing the thought for her,

"When you were touching me."

She nods. _Oh. _She looks too awkward to say more. _Cuddling without sex. Never done that before. _You sigh. This isn't about feelings. She's drowning and you're something to hold on to. The only something around that can provide and solace, any warmth. And you'll do it. Of course you will, you'd do it even without these pathetic yearnings in your chest, you'd do it just because she's Bo. And from the moment you saw her you knew you'd be breaking your rules for her. You just never realized you'd be breaking them all.

"Of course succubabe. One Valkerie hot water bottle coming right up." The relief in her eyes is palpable and you shrug it off, unused to gratitude. Unused to offering anything that would lead to gratitude. You take her hand and lead her to the large burgundy canopy bed on the far wall. You'll hold her as long as you can. As long as you can tether her with your chi. As long as she remains your Bo. It's temporary, such fucking fragile relief. But it's all you've got.


	3. A Warm Respite

**Bo's POV **

The first thing you feel is warmth. There's sunshine kissing your skin, but you barely notice it. You're too busy relishing the lack of ice in your veins, the removal of that dark chi that made you strong even as it chained you down. The next thing you hear is birds, your eyes blink open. You had imagined perhaps you were home, but there are no birdsongs in the city.

You're lying on the grass in a field that belongs in a nature calendar. Wildflowers blossom in the partial shade of tall looming redwoods. You get up and approach the closest one. You've never seen tree so massive, the trunk wider than you can wrap your arms around. You smile, tempted to try. For all your running you never saw very much. One cement jungle after another.

"Never took you for a tree hugger." You whirl around to find Tamsin smirking at you, crossed arms and one hip cocked to the side. You know she's waiting for your smartass comeback, but you're too taken by the change in her. She's a little more tired than you last saw her...but it's not that. There's this sense of-your mind fumbles over the word for a few moments because you can't believe you are attributing it to the Valkyrie-peace.

Tamsin looks peaceful.

You've never seen her like this. Combative, defensive, conflicted, charming, even the occasional horny, but never peaceful, never...content. There's an odd pang in your heart.

"Where are we?" It wasn't what you'd meant to ask, but Tamsin is tricky and something tells you asking _Why do you look like you're not itching for a fight _wouldn't go too well.

"I don't know succubus. I'm just visiting. But," she looks around briefly before turning her eyes on you for a far more leisurely appraisal, "you look like a virgin ready for sacrifice." She grins cheekily, "Kinky...and more than a little ironic."

You finally look down at yourself. Billowing purple and black has been replaced by glaring white. A gown not too unlike the one Ciara had picked out for you. You feel just as uncomfortable in it. You weren't kidding when you said it wasn't your colour. White is innocent, pure...neither of which you've been for a very long time.

Again you say nothing in return. She's frowning at you now, having noticed that you are off, but you're too busy focused on her. There's something in her eyes. You don't know how you know, but the certainty rips through you so violently you put a hand to your chest almost checking for a wound. Maybe you truly are the daughter of death.

You're tearing up again, you seem to be doing that a lot lately. You blink them away, already noting the growing unease of the blonde Valkyrie. She's dead; you killed her. And now you're both here. Perhaps after sucking her dry, the darkness inside you finally cast you out.

Tamsin raises her hands in alarm, "Easy on the waterworks Succulette. It wasn't you." A conflicting melding of horror and relief engulfs you. You were right, she is dead, but at least it wasn't by your hand.

"What happened?" The last thing you remember is lying on the luscious king sized bed, pillowed on Tamsin's chest, clinging a little tighter than you would like, thankful Tamsin never said a word.

"They came for me. You were asleep. I was on the other side of the room they didn't see," you watch a delicious blush spread across the Valkyrie's cheeks and you have to resist the urge to reach out and seek solace in the warm flush of her skin, in the evidence of her presence and life, "well, one of the Valkyries was an old friend of mine-"

You cock an eyebrow at that. From what you gathered Tamsin isn't really type to accumulate friends, more likely... "And by old friend you mean-"

"Sworn enemy yeah pretty much." She sighs and you notice how she has been absently stroking her side.

Your heart lurches, "She stabbed you?" There's a roar thundering within you, the power in your blood crying out and you can hear it with every damned pump of your heart, "What is her name? What did she look like?"

She's eying you strangely, "Ran me through with a pike; a little retro but a classic." She blows a golden lock out from her eyes and sighs, "Although I'm fairly certain she wasn't acting under orders. I know a personal killing when I see one, or, well" she chuckles but it rings hollow, "when I live one. So basically I get my revenge because Odin is going to be pissed. Trust me. Whatever her punishment will be, it'll make my gutting look like a tea party." She's glaring at you intently now, "So don't you go being stupid and noble and trying to avenge me you hear?"

You'll make no promises, and you know it shows in your eyes because Tamsin lets out a long breath and shakes her head. You don't ask who it was again. You have other ways of finding out. You couldn't promise to let it go even if you wanted to. If this you wants revenge, the part of you that you consider good or at least goodish, you dread the reaction of your dark side to Tamsin's death. 'Dark you' may be lacking in the compassion department but is awfully possessive.

"He'll raise you again. He said he had plans for you." You hope you don't sound as desperate as you feel. You've come to care for the Valkyrie, and maybe you're a little possessive too. The thought of her not fighting Odin by your side feels wrong.

She drifts a little closer now. She's looking at you like that again. Like the time in Lauren's apartment, like the time in your bathtub, and the time in the humans' fae experimental compound. Three times she looked at you with this bizarre mix of wonder and affection; three times you were sure she was going to kiss you.

The first time you were glad she didn't despite your admitted curiosity (how could you not be? A heady rush of a blizzard, cold and dominating that somehow warms and soothes better than the best hot bath.)

The second time you wished she had; you had wanted to taste that strange ambrosia again. You hadn't fed in a while and there she was, calling you perfect, laying you far barer than simple naked skin. And yet she didn't see a monster. You wanted to feel those lips against your own again. To feel that spark just as you had in dark fae hickville. You fed from a blonde that held a certain resemblance to the mysterious Valkyrie later that night. It wasn't a very satisfying feed, a burger when you had a craving for steak.

The third time you were done waiting, the adrenaline was still thrumming a frantic beat in your veins. She'd given up everything she knew and was for you. You wanted to kiss thanks along the line of her jaw; you wanted to carve your frustration down her shoulder blades for being yet another person to sacrifice everything for you. You would have...had she not backed away, had the straits been any less dire you would have probably pulled her back.

And now she's dead and despite Odin's claim of a plan for the blond Valkyrie you're not sure you'll ever have this chance again. The thought sparks a deeper yearning than you knew you possessed, you stand immobilized. Watching her.

"Listen maybe it's because I'm dead, or perhaps there's something in the air here, but here's the truth, there's something between us."

You open your mouth to interject but she presses her index and middle fingers to your lips, "I don't mean feelings," she stretches the last word, positively grating it to Swiss cheese in her distaste, but you hear the underlying nervousness. She has feelings. Perhaps they sicken her, but they're there. This shouldn't be a surprise really, given recent events, but regardless of how much dark chi you suck from the fallen warriors' of Valhalla your heart remains a wounded muscle with a suicidal tendency of leaping first. The reminder borne of the softness in her gaze is welcomed. Needed.

"What I mean is...there's something physical, biological, perhaps even..." she trails off, her fingers sliding slowly from your lips to rest over your heart. You cannot help but note the similar situation, to wish she were once again touching skin instead of cool silk.

"What Tamsin?" You didn't mean for your voice to come out so breathy, and you watch her pupils dilate in reaction.

"Legendary," the fingers against you twitch slightly, "pre-destined." She's being truthful yet so very vague. But unlike Dyson or Trick who held things back to protect you, you can tell Tamsin is protecting herself. You don't like it, but you respect it. Weren't you just bemoaning your tattered heart?

"I've never been one to put much stock in destiny."

Tamsin chuckles, her hand falling away, you take in a deep breath but it does little to ease the tension of the moment, "Says the one who was foretold by the nain rouge to defeat the garuda...and then went ahead and did."

"You mean the half pint who stalked me and told me I had to defeat the garuda, thereby making everyone else think I had to defeat him. And then with my friends (you are a little disturbed that you are willingly putting Vex in that category) and a hell of a lot of luck we kicked his feathery ass. That's not destiny."

She's peering down at you intently, you wish you were wearing your heels to help counter the height difference. Your bare toes curl into the grass at the thought.

"Is that why even before in Valhalla when I was..." you search for a word but all fall short. Kenzi had taken to calling your alter ego Dark Bo or Bad Bitch Bo. Neither are capable of describing the coiling, cold dark power that had made you feel so grounded and connected to everything, and yet everything else, all that you were...all that you are...was left in a haze.

"Even before, I was drawn to you." You can't help the quirk to your lips as you continue, "I didn't know if I wanted to eat you alive or keep you safe. I just knew I wanted you for myself."

Tamsin doesn't answer, she just smiles at you, soft and beautifully serene. You find you cannot help but match hers. Things are even more messed up than before, but you somehow feel a little more grounded. Perhaps some of her strange post-mortem tranquility is rubbing off on you.

Your closeness lasts for a few more moments before she steps away and runs a hand through her hair, "I have to go."

You blink, nonplussed, "You can't just tell a girl she may have some great destiny with you and then take off." You're smiling, albeit also completely serious.

She smirks, " I know," a finger runs down your cheek and your eyelashes flutter embarrassingly under the gentleness of her touch, her smile widens, "You were right about Odin. He will raise me. But there are fates worse than death, and there is no guarantee that we will see one another again."

You open your mouth to argue- to rail against her resignation or perhaps promise you will find her because that's what you do for people you care about- but then she's surging into you with that same urgency from Brazenwood. It's fast and hard and messy and utterly perfect. She pulls away just as you try and pull her more fully into your arms,

"I know you will try, and if I was a betting woman I'd place it all on you," your lip quirks, you've learned a thing or two about the blonde Valkyrie in recent weeks,

"You are a betting woman Tamsin. And I think you already put it all on me the moment you didn't take me to Valhalla."

She crinkles her nose but chuckles, "Yeah. I guess you're right. Maybe that's why I'm telling you this now. I'm still blaming it on the dead thing. I always seem to get a bit sentimental after I expire." Her sardonic grin fades as she turns serious, "It terrifies me Bo. What this all could mean. Putting aside the shitshow that is a Valkyrie having feelings and not even getting into that weird love quadrilateral, pentagram or whatever the fuck it is that you've got going on..." for a moment she's scrutinizing you with such intensity and yet you have the feeling she isn't seeing you at all, "You're the daughter of Odin-"

"And the granddaughter of the Blood King." It's meant to be a quick quip, but given by the gaping look on her face, she didn't know. Somehow you assumed she would have known, either been given the information by those that sent her after you, or Tamsin would have dug it up on her own. It's even a greater kept secret than you realized.

"WHAT? You're Trick's grandkid!" Tamsin runs both hands through her hair now, staring down at the ground and releasing a slow breath, "So not helping here hotpants."

"Sorry. But you are being honest so here's me, being honest. I'm the daughter of the Blood King and I can use my blood to put people under my thrall."

She's shaking her head in stunned bemusement, you watch her debate asking about your blood, but she seems to brush the thought aside. Maybe she doesn't want to know. "Look this is not going to be easy Bo. I'm not going to be easy."

You lace your fingers through her belt loops and this time she lets you draw her into you, "For the first few weeks after we met you were trying to lock me up or hand me over to the dark fae firing squad-"

She laughs, low and rough, the sound igniting goosebumps down your arms. She shakes her head with something bordering on nostalgia "Firing squads are so 1856 succubabe."

You frown knowing there's a story in there, but you were making a point, "My point is," you enunciate every word, dragging it out until she finally looks you in the eye again, "I better than most know just how difficult you can be. And I want you anyway." The words ring heavy with promise and you swallow thickly, "I want you fighting by my side. " Tamsin seems to tense and relax all at once.

You're still more than a little confused about everything, but undeniable wanting. Desiring the euphoria of her taste and the way you tremble under her touch. You can't help the small pout on your lips as she takes hold of both of your hands, and holds you at arms length.

" As much as I'd love to indulge in this sweet cheeks," she pauses as her eyes seem to take in every dip and curve of your body, "believe me" the words are growled under her breath, "we have company."

You turn to see an unmistakable figure watching from some twenty feet away. "Oh no!" your heart plummets, you didn't think things could get any more difficult. You should have known better, "It's the nain rouge."

"I know." You turn back to look at her, knowing how the harbinger of doom's appearance isn't your typical fae education. You even had to describe to Dyson and Hale what she looked like.

She easily reads your confusion, "We've already exchanged words." She doesn't look too happy about it... you don't blame her, the kid never comes bearing good tidings and fruit baskets.

You turn back to the nain rouge and groan. You know you should hear what she has to say, but part of you wants to be petty and walk in the opposite direction. There is a hand on your shoulder and a whisper in your ear, "I hate goodbyes succubus. Stay strong." You don't turn to look at her, you feel it the instant she vanishes. The air is just a little bit colder.

You stomp your way over to her, crushing a few wildflowers in your frustration. You're yelling out to her once you're sure you are within earshot, "Oh great am I in limbo again?" You look around as if taking in the scenery for the first time, "Although I've got to say the decor has majorly improved."

The nain rouge hesitates to answer just as she always does. Fae customs dictate that you don't speak to the nain rouge. You should take the warning inherent in her presence. Trick told you as much, but you've never been one to follow the rules. And you figure the twerp owes you for taking out the big bad garuda last year.

"No. Not this time. You're dreaming. You are beyond my reach when you are awake, the gates of Valhalla are not open to me." She looks petulant at this thought and you bite back a smirk, you have bigger fish to fry. The girl is here again and that means nothing good.

"So am I caught up in another great legendary doom?"

The nain rouge simply nods. You let out a weary sigh. Ageless omnipresent fae or not, the munchkin needs a timeout.

"Okay," you draw the word out in exasperation, getting information from the half pint is always frustrating, "is it Oden? Because that's the biggest threat I've got on my plate at the moment."

You swear she's dragging it out to annoy you, but finally she shakes her head, "No. But he is a major player."

You're pacing in front of her now. You don't need any more problems right now. You want to tell her to stuff her prophecies and warnings, to scram and darken someone else's door. But it's too much to be a coincidence. Tamsin tells you she thinks you and her may be somehow bound by destiny...after talking to the nain rouge for that matter...and now she's here to speak with you.

"Is Tamsin a major player?" You already suspect the answer but find conflicted comfort in her nod nevertheless. She's dragged into the mess with you, but at least she'll be by your side.

"Okay. Enough twenty questions. What's the big bad threat?"

The nain rouge crinkles her nose in distaste at your demand, at your gall. You're certain for a moment that she won't answer you. You watch with surprise as cold ageless eyes soften, you aren't sure what you're seeing on her face, but you're unreservedly confident that you're the first to see it.

"You."

_Oh_. You gulp thickly, the horror sits like lead in your stomach. Yet you think that perhaps you saw this coming. Despite the assurances your friends and family...you are a monster.

**_Sorry about that ending. I'll try and update soon. I'd love to know what you think. Or anything you'd like to see in future chapters._**


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